


Hello, It's Me

by PawneePorpoise



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, F/M, Human Castiel, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Non-Canon Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 01:47:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5229224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PawneePorpoise/pseuds/PawneePorpoise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is trying his hardest to put his breakup with Dean in the past and move on with his life but a call in the middle of the night brings everything swirling back. Should he face his past head on, or continue to ignore the unrequited love he feels for his ex and push ahead without him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Call

The ding of the elevator in the empty hall gave way to a sliding of doors revealing hands tangled in hair and lips crashing together. Low moans and giggling filled the empty space as bodies stumbled down the hall coming to a rest with a thud as they hit a locked apartment door. 

“Castiel-” His name exhaled more than spoken with heated breath into the side of his neck. 

“Yes, Meg?” His voice coming out lower and with a touch more gravel than he was used to hearing. Usually these type of nights didn't include much talking. 

“You going to unlock your apartment so we can get this show on the road, or what?” For emphasis she slid her hands down his chest tucking her thumbs into his waistband. 

He didn't really need prompting but within moments Castiel was fumbling with his key as his fingers were shaking with anticipation on getting through the door. Flinging the door open, Castiel surged forward, Meg stumbling backwards to keep up, slamming the door behind him with his foot before suddenly being shoved backwards, flattened against the now shut door. Meg, despite her small frame, managed to reverse their previous position and had him pinned. Without any of her previous restraint in the hallway, she was grabbing at his belt hastily removing the layers of fabric stopping her from getting at what they were really here for. 

Castiel, already impatient after an entire night of flirting and dancing at the bar, was also ready to get things moving. He began to unbutton his own shirt in an attempt to help before his own hands were forced back down to his sides. Clearly Meg had plans and she was going to undress him at her own speed which at this moment was both incredibly arousing and also incredibly frustrating to Castiel. Just as she finished tearing his belt away from his jeans and was working on the button and zipper to get them all the way down, Castiel's hall phone began ringing. He made no attempt to move. It was nearing 2 am and with no close family or friends he could only assume it was either a telemarketer or a wrong number, neither of which were worth breaking up his current situation to answer. 

Meg didn't seem phased by the ringing and now that his pants were pooled at his feet she had slid her hands up to work on his shirt, button by button, making sure to press hot kisses and little nips on every inch of skin she exposed as she went along. The phone had stopped ringing by now as the answering machine picked up and Castiel assumed it would stop any second when the caller heard his generic robotic message telling them he wasn't home. He recently got home phone, never really needing one before so he didn't bother to set up a personal message. Quickly adding that to his mental to-do list he turned his attention back to Meg. 

She had made her way down the entire length of his torso, coming back up to full height to slide his's shirt off his shoulders as she trailed kisses up his neck before finding his mouth again, tongues clashing for a few heated moments before dropping to her knees in front of him. Her fingers are in the waistband of his boxers tugging gently down as the first words of the mysterious caller escape through the answering machine echoing through the apartment. 

“Uh… h-hello. I-I’m not even sure this is the right number for who I'm trying to reach.”

As the familiarity of the voice hits Castiel's ears every muscle in his body grows tense, breath hitching in his throat, as he's suddenly helpless, frozen in place while the message plays aloud. Meg seems to notice his sudden change in demeanor as she pauses, sitting back on her heels, confusion marking her features. He can't meet her stare, eyes too busy being glued to the little blinking light on the side table in the hall as the voice continues. 

“Cas, if this is your number, It’s Dean. I just- I'm trying to reach you. I know it's been almost a year and I never got to explain- it's probably too late now but I'm sorry I didn't call sooner, I know you don't want to hear from me. I tried so many numbers so I don't know if you'll ever even hear this but if- if you do, just please Cas, you don't owe me anything, I know, but I need to talk to you. Please Castiel, I'm- I'm begging you here. Call me back.”

The click of the answering machine finishing it's recording rang loudly in Castiel's ears. He was vaguely aware of Meg trying to say something to him but he couldn't wrap his head around hearing that voice again. Dean. He needed to be alone. He felt like he’d just been punched in the gut. He knew it was unfair to Meg but in one fluid motion with no explanation he stepped away from her, swinging open the door, making an obvious gesture that it was her time to leave. Standing abruptly, confusion giving way to annoyance, Meg shoved past him and off towards the elevators, and he didn't even bother watching her head down the hall before closing the door once again, this time locking it securely behind him. 

Standing in only his boxers in his entryway, he stared once again at the blinking red light on the machine. Running his fingers through his hair with an exasperated sigh he realized belatedly his whole body was shaking. Leaning against the wall behind him the message played over and over in his head. He didn't need to press play to hear the message again. It was seared into his memory from the moment he first heard the words. " _It's Dean_ ". And he had called him Castiel. That wasn't to be taken lightly. Dean saved Cas’ full name for only times when he needed to make the most impact. In all the time they'd spent together Cas had probably only heard Dean say his full name once, instead choosing the less wordy version Dean had taken it upon himself to come up with. 

His head was spinning. He couldn't deal with this tonight. There was too much to think about, too many things coming back, anger, hurt, sadness, and.. relief, longing? **No** , not tonight while the lingering effects of alcohol still played with the edges of his vision. There was a stinging he felt in his eyes and a lump in his throat and at the moment he wasn't entirely sure he could blame it on the alcohol in his system. Without another moment dwelling on this he moved the short distance to his bedroom, rolling under the covers before burying his face in the pillows and drifting off to an uneasy sleep.


	2. The Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas takes a trip down memory lane, which isn't always pleasant.

Castiel was sitting on a bar stool, elbows on the counter, half finished beer occupying the space in front of him. Everything was loud. The people, the music, even his thoughts. It had been one hell of a week. And when he finally made it to Friday evening he saw nothing else but the neon signs calling him to this little oasis he often frequented in times of need. 

He wasn't looking to meet anyone and had come alone for the express purpose of drowning in liquor and his own thoughts and was succeeding rather well until a voice broke through his inner monologue. 

“Rough week?”

The voice to his left was surprisingly smooth in his ears despite it's gravel like quality, not unlike his own. Turning to view the man seated next to him, Castiel was immediately drawn to the impossibly green eyes staring at him. This was one strikingly handsome stranger who was patiently waiting for a response to his question while Cas was busy gawking at him. In his flustered state all Castiel could manage was a short huff of nervous laughter and an affirming nod. Rough was an understatement to say the least. 

“Well, next round's on me.” The man smiled warmly, clearly not off put by Cas’ awkward interaction before signaling the bartender. 

Pulling himself together enough to remember his manners he extended his hand, “Castiel, and thanks for the beer.”

“Dean, ” another smile graced his features as he took Castiel’s hand, and the blinding nature of that grin was enough to melt whatever bad mood Cas was previously feeling. “Glad to help.” 

That first drink turned into another, which Cas insisted on buying, then a few more after that. The rest of that night was filled with enjoyable conversation and more laughter than Castiel had participated in for months. As the other patrons began leaving the bar, and things quieted down as the night grew ever closer to day, Dean made a move to head out, but not before snagging Castiel’s phone off the bar typing in his number with a silly grin playing at the corners of his mouth. 

“Call me sometime, Castiel” he said with a wink before heading off into what was left of the night.

\---

Castiel sat up suddenly. He had been dreaming of the night he met Dean of all things, and replaying the memory now did nothing to quell the hurt and anxiety he was having the night before. For a few minutes he thought he was going to be sick, but the nausea eventually subsided, morphing into a hollow emptiness he wasn’t sure was any better. 

He fell back, pulling the covers up over his head, unable to get out of bed and face what he knew was waiting for him on the machine in the hall. The dream he had awoken from had only opened the floodgates, spilling forth all the memories he had spent the last 8 months repressing but that were now surging through him in a tidal wave of emotion. 

He remembered their first date at the little diner downtown with the “world-famous” burgers Dean loved. That night had ended with their first kiss, all clumsy teeth and giggling, after Cas embarrassingly tripped over his own shoelaces and fell right into Dean’s arms. He still couldn’t believe Dean’s reflexes had been good enough to catch him, but he was definitely grateful for it. 

Then there was the time Dean planned that date to the honeybee farm to celebrate their 1 month anniversary because while Dean wasn't really a fan, Cas was fascinated by bees and Dean insisted on doing something special for even the tiniest of relationship victories. 

The first time Dean had invited him home with him after a night out dancing and they spent the next few hours in Dean's bed sharing slow lazy kisses between glasses of wine while hands freely explored the maze of tangled limbs they weaved under the covers. Cas could have spent the rest of his life lying there in Dean’s arms, he never needed more than that. 

But that wasn’t how things went and all these beautiful happier memories gave way to the ones responsible for the sudden tightness in Castiel's chest and the stinging in his eyes. 

He shuddered remembering the first time he was woken up in the middle of the night by Dean banging on his apartment door a little too drunk to have driven over there. When he realized who it was and let him in Dean had immediately thrown himself on Cas, a little too handsy, with Cas not really being in the mood. It had taken Cas more effort than it should have for him to convince Dean he just needed to go to sleep, and after Dean had yelled at him for ‘killing the mood’ he’d promptly passed out on the couch, where Cas left him for the rest of the night. 

Despite their argument following that first drunken incident, Dean's drunkenness became a more regular thing, and no amount of concern Cas expressed for Dean's well-being could slow him down. It should have been the final straw when Cas stopped by Dean’s apartment with a surprise dinner of their favorite takeout to find Dean belligerent. So instead of them sitting down to enjoy Chinese food and Netflix the night turned into a screaming match over Dean's drinking which abruptly ended when Dean shattered his dinner plate against the wall and Cas stormed out, tears streaming down his cheeks the entire way home. 

Somehow though, against his better judgement,Cas still wanted to be with Dean. He was drawn to him despite his emotional shortcomings. Dean was sweet, gentle even. Always knowing the right joke to make to redeem one of Cas’ miserable days with side splitting laughter. He was the right amount of protective and caring, never controlling or possessive, but Cas always knew he belonged to Dean. God help him, Cas was madly in love. Completely and utterly gone on that man. Until the night of their 2 year anniversary when everything went to hell. 

Cas had tried so hard to give him the time and space he knew Dean needed. Dean wasn't the most comfortable with sharing his feelings and while Cas was usually the one to wear his heart on his sleeve he didn’t fault Dean for being more reserved. After hearing all the stories about Dean’s father and his childhood he understood that Dean wasn’t raised in the same type of open and nurturing environment Cas was. Which is why he waited so long in their relationship to tell Dean exactly how he felt, but he just couldn’t keep it bottled up anymore. He was so sure by the time they reached 2 years of dating, spending almost every moment together these days, that Dean wouldn’t feel the need to run because he had to feel the same way about Cas. 

But apparently he was wrong because what was supposed to be a celebration of how far they’d come quickly turned into a wake for the relationship they could have had. Cas’ declaration of love had taken all the air out of the room, and after what seemed like hours of holding his breath for Dean’s response, all he got in return was a stuttering “Cas, I- I’m sorry, I can’t-” before Dean scrambled from the restaurant leaving Cas stunned to silence staring at an empty chair. 

And after that night when Dean chose solitude over Cas’ open arms, Cas was too confused, too heartbroken, too ruined, to answer Dean's calls the next day. At the time he figured why bother? It was clear Dean wasn't capable of loving him. There was something broken inside Dean Winchester and Cas was naive to think he would be special enough to fix it. And as his thoughts ping-ponged between hurt and anger, and he began to wonder if maybe it was him that was the broken one, not worthy of Dean’s love, he knew he had to stop wallowing before he went down a path he couldn’t come back from. In his heart he knew what he wanted. He needed something solid, long term, he was ready to settle down and this thing with Dean should have been it, but now he saw that it wasn't the kind of relationship he needed in his life. They were two different people, looking for two different things, and Cas was just too blind with hopes and dreams to realize it before he fell head over heels. 

Still under the covers, Cas opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling. He only now realized with the blurriness of his vision how hard he'd been crying throughout his trip down memory lane and angrily he wiped his arm across his face. No, he wasn't going to spend any more of his time crying over Dean Winchester. The past was the past, no matter how hard it was fighting to be relevant again. Tossing back the covers, he felt determined to continue with the life he'd started piecing back together and stormed off to the shower to begin his day.


	3. The Last Chance

_The previous night._

Dean sat alone at one end of the bar, _their_ bar, though a lot had managed to change here since the night Dean had bought that first beer for the mysterious blue eyed stranger. For one thing Dean’s best friend Benny was now the bartender, had been for a few months now, which is why Dean felt comfortable drinking here alone. Benny knew about Dean's tendency to turn his inner turmoil and emotional instability into a series of shots and bad decisions. And for that reason Dean knew when he showed up in the mood he was in tonight he’d only be allowed one beer before he was cut off. 

The night he ran from his feelings and the life he'd begun with Castiel was the last night he drunk himself nearly to death. Rushing out of the restaurant, straight home to drink his weight in whiskey, he only passed out on the kitchen floor after he’d become so drunk he could no longer hold back the miserable tears filling his vision and ended up sobbing alone in the dark until exhaustion won out. When he finally woke up the next day, the pain in his head matched only by the pain in his limbs from sleeping on the hardwood floor wasn’t enough to fog his memory of the previous night's events and he realized how huge a mistake he had made. But unfortunately for him it was already too late. He knew Cas would be furious with him, he had every right to be yet he still tried getting through to him every waking moment of the next week. He couldn’t even begin to guess how many voicemails he’d left him, calling every number Cas had. He couldn't imagine the stammering he had done at the restaurant could be the last thing he ever said to Cas and even showing up at Cas’ apartment did no good, as it seems he was staying somewhere else for the time being. Dean was at a loss and when the message on the other end of the phone changed from “ _Hey It’s Cas, leave a message after the tone._ ” to “ _The number you dialed cannot be reached._ ” he knew for sure that Castiel was lost to him and it was only his stupidity that kept him from completely giving up because no matter what, some part of him still thought maybe, just maybe, if he held out Cas would come back to him and he could beg for forgiveness. 

So for the last 8 months, he had spent every day trying to be the guy he should have been on that night and all the nights leading up to it. The guy Castiel deserved and now would never know he could be. Who was ready for commitment, and not afraid to say it, it just cost him everything he had to get to that point. Dean knew he should move on, should take this as a tough lesson learned and focus on never putting himself in this position again, but he just couldn't. Cas was his everything and he threw that away over some stupid fear of commitment. 

8 months and he still woke up every morning with the pang of loneliness at the emptiness in his bed, and every night he went to sleep without anyone tucked up against his side. Some nights he dreamt of blue eyes and wild hair and waking up alone on those days was a new type of pain Dean didn’t know existed. In the 2 years they'd been together Castiel had somehow managed to do what no one before him ever had. Cas was a part of Dean now. He had infiltrated the walls Dean spent years building around his heart and yet Dean still hadn’t allowed himself to express how he really felt. 

So when Dean finished his beer for the night and began the walk home he made up his mind that he needed to try one more time to reach Cas. Entering his apartment he did the only thing he could think of, opening his laptop, he searched Google for “Castiel Novak” thankful for the uniqueness of Cas’ name. The phone book online returned only a few results, but without a way of knowing which one, if any were actually him, Dean decided to call each and every one until he found his Cas. 

Picking up his cell phone, he began punching in the first number. Wrong number after wrong number, answering machine after machine, Dean left apologies and pleas for a return call. By the time he got to the final number it was nearing 2 am and with desperation in his voice, unsure if he could really bring himself to give this up if none of these calls worked, he left his final message. 

“Cas, if this is your number. It's Dean.”

\---

Dean dreamt again that night too. Of a night in early fall, still early in their relationship, when the evenings had just begun to take on that chilly quality and Cas let out a huff as the cold air hit him on the way out of the restaurant. Dean couldn't help being a clichéd romantic that night, shrugging off his own jacket to wrap around Cas’ shoulders. Fluffier language and grand romantic gestures never were Dean’s forte but the smile he was rewarded with was nothing short of beautiful and more than worth being subjected to the chilly breeze while they walked home hand in hand,Cas tucked in close to his side. 

That night had almost taken a sour turn when a passing group of men on the sidewalk casually flung hateful words and empty threats in their direction and the tinge of fear in Cas’ blue eyes locked on him almost had Dean chasing after the bullies down the sidewalk. Dean was used to the occasional intolerant person assuming they held the key to right or wrong but Dean was many years past needing to explain his sexuality to random strangers. Cas on the other hand was still getting used to the bisexual label and while more than capable of taking care of himself, Dean often took on the role of protector, because in the end it was in his nature and the trusting looks Cas gave him was enough to melt his insides. 

That night had ended with Dean rushing them home where they snuggled into each other on the couch. Cas sleeping soundly, cradled across Dean’s lap, head resting on Dean’s chest, while Dean hummed “Hey, Jude” and rubbed calming circles into his back. It was the most at peace Dean could ever remember feeling. Where he had everything he needed in one place, and he never wanted it to end. 

But like the dream did as he opened his eyes to another cold morning alone, that time of peace in his life had also ended. For some reason this morning more so than most hurt to wake up to. His desperate phone calls from hours before were flooding back to him and the first wave of dread washed over him. 

This was it. If there were no return calls today he had to force himself to move on and just accept that he would never hear from Cas again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This fic is actually almost completely written, so I"ll be posting the next bits pretty frequently. Even though its not as depressing as the song (I can't leave my OTP broken up for eternity) this fic was inspired by "Hello" by Adele. For some reason I just saw Cas and Dean playing out that scenario, because well, they can't ever get it together. Hopefully you enjoy this shorter story.
> 
> Comments and Kudos give me life. Let me know what you like/didn't like. I'm still getting into writing and actually posting, so any feedback is HUGELY appreciated. I don't have a beta either. :( <3 
> 
> Also, you can find me [here on tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/personal-space-pls-cas).


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